


snake bites

by livscrains



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 09:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livscrains/pseuds/livscrains
Summary: F.P. comes to collect his last paycheck from Andrew's Construction and it turns out to be a different kind of day when Hermione is there. One-shot. Just some carefree smut for y'all.





	snake bites

The moment that Fred Andrews walked out of the trailer at Andrew’s Construction, she knew she’d messed up. Maybe it’d been wrong to lead him on. But, had she really? The kiss the two of them shared.. It didn’t feel like another card in the stack. It felt real. He felt real. And for a moment, he was. But, when he’d looked at her, all Hermione saw reflected back at her was hatred. Up until this point, she’d only seen affection in his eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to translate it as love because that was more than she was ever capable of giving him. He was married. So was she. Granted, her and Hiram hadn’t been in love in quite some time, but the ring on her finger still meant something. Be it marriage or a business transaction, she was still his. A piece of property. Hermione Lodge would never allow herself to be owned by a man, but he was the closest anyone had ever come.   
  
The brunette’s thoughts are interrupted when she hears the bell above the door jingle, signaling someone’s presence. F.P. Jones. Before the blow out between her and Fred, she remembered him telling her that he’d fired the serpent and that he would be by at some point to pick up his last paycheck. He couldn’t really afford to pay him the full amount, but it seemed that he’d scraped by and managed anyway. That was Fred Andrews. Someone who came through.   
  
“Hermione,” He greeted as he walked in. Her eyes narrowed. She was still wary of him, wary of the snake that he’d planted at the diner that’d nearly bit her hand off.   
  
“F.P.”   
  
She calls him by his nickname. No one has called him ‘Forsythe’ since high school and she remembered him outwardly voicing his distaste for it. Wouldn’t want to step on a snake, now would she?   
  
“What are you doing here?” She asks aloud, the man already approaching the desk she’s now standing behind. A last wall of defense. She isn’t afraid of him. She’s simply cautious.   
  
“Fred told me I could pick up my last check. You know, since he fired me and all.” At his words, she nodded. She knew already.   
  
“Right, of course. Here,” She says, picking up the white envelope with the enclosed check and holding it out for him to take. But, his eyes are fixed on her’s. She watches him, a little hesitant.   
  
It takes him a full minute before he allows a smirk to creep onto his features, taking it in his own hands, fingers brushing against Hermione’s. She shivers. He does, too. Before she knows it, her eyes are moving to F.P’s and suddenly, she can see something different. His eyes aren’t questioning anymore. Instead, there is something that replaces that…  lust?   
  
She’s seen it before, in Fred’s eyes. She would know that look anywhere. And before she even knows what’s happening, F.P. is rounding the table and invading her personal space. She doesn’t stop him, doesn’t even move. In fact, she finds herself stepping closer.   
  
“Fred’s girl..” He says, almost as if he’s mocking him. As if he envies him. But, she’s never been Fred’s girl. That title was taken early on by Mary, no matter how much the two of them had wished it’d turned out differently. Years have passed since then. No sense in remaining stuck in the past.   
  
“You say that as if he owns me,” She murmurs, eyes still trained on him. She hears him scoff and it’s full of mockery, too.   
  
“No one owns you, Hermione. You make that clear. I see the way you walk around Riverdale, pretending not to hear things, pretending that you don’t know what’s goin’ on. But you and I both know better, don’t we?”  
  
Did he? Hiram did everything behind bars, but certain things wouldn’t be executed without her help. She ran everything. But he couldn’t possibly know that.   
  
“Do I?”   
  
She’s playing coy and for some odd reason, he likes it.  Now, he’s moving his hands to her waist and bunching the fabric of her dress. Hermione’s breath catches in her throat. She could easily move away if she wanted to, but she doesn’t want to.   
  
“Fred could come back at any moment,” She breathes, hoping it doesn’t make him stop.   
  
“Fuck him,” He replies, lifting Hermione onto the desk after one quick motion knocks everything off the desk.   
  
The shorter brunette gasps and she can tell that he’s angry, that he’s trying to take his frustration out somewhere. And quite frankly, she’s angry, too. Fred was angry with her because she’d lied to him. He had every right to be upset. But he didn’t have to be so callous. Did she ever mean anything to him?   
  
After the thought crosses her mind, she can feel him against her. He’s hard and she can feel it through the thick fabric of his work jeans. God, it’s turning her on. The grease-covered denim and the little spots of dirt on his plaid button-up shirt. She can tell he hasn’t shaved in a few days and there’s alcohol on his breath. It should make her stop, but it doesn’t. It only causes her to become more aware of the growing arousal between her legs. She doesn’t know if she herself needs a release, it having been years since she’d been intimate with anyone this way.. Or if he really just has this affect on her.   
  
There’s hesitation, she can feel it. His eyes land on her’s, as though he’s asking for permission. Buried beneath the tough serpent facade is still that gentleman that she knew in high school. The football star, the man that would do anything for his best friend. He’s still buried deep.   
  
But Hermione doesn’t want gentle. She wants to be fucked.   
  
“Don’t stop,” She breathes, and the grip on her thighs becomes tighter, bruising almost. She hopes he leaves marks. At least it would be something to remind her that she’s still alive, that somebody still wants her.    
  
Nobody had to tell him twice. He surged forward and his lips press firmly against her’s. It’s hot, coated in alcohol and it makes her dizzy. Her own penchant for wine and sometimes, harder liquor, makes this all the more enticing.   
  
They’re in a frenzy. Nails scrape against rough skin and she’s unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down, the size of his length becoming more evident as all is revealed. His hands take to her body and pull down the zipper on the back of her dress. However, it doesn’t make it all the way down her body. Just enough to reveal the lacy black bra underneath those clothes.   
  
He wonders if she was ready for something. For him. And it causes him to growl. This is the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the man that had just ruined any remaining friendship they still shared. The ultimate ‘bro code’ break.  A moan is passed from her lips. It’s been so long since anyone has handled her so roughly and god, she loves it. It sets her skin aflame and she needs more.   
  
F.P. Jones is like an addiction. One that, if she’s not careful, might ravage her entire soul.   
  
When the two finally part for air, she feels his mouth find the hardened peaks on her breasts. Perfectly manicured nails are now digging at his scalp, egging him on further. A gasp passes through the air when she feels him bite down. It isn’t enough to hurt, just enough to bruise and remind her that someone has touched her. It’ll heal before her husband returns. Or maybe it won’t.   
  
For a brief moment, she wonders what he’d tell his wife. But, then she remembers that Gladys left him, abandoned him at his worst and she can’t bring herself to care.   
  
This is almost as much as she can take and he isn’t even inside her yet. That needs to change. Carefully, she brings her hand to his crotch and she begins to stroke him through his boxers. She’s surprised at how soft the material is and from experience, she knows how good it’ll feel to have both rubbing against his cock.  
  
Now, it’s F.P’s turn to moan and it’s followed by a little growl. She loves it when he does that. She can feel herself grow wetter from it and he pulls away from her chest, staring down at her with completely black eyes. He looks like just what he is. A snake. And she needs him.   
  
She’d beg, but Hermione Lodge doesn’t beg.   
  
As if he’s reading her mind, he straightens and he pulls his boxers down, exposing his length for her eyes to fully revel in. She’s licking her lips, her mouth almost watering and she now knows what’s coming. She’s wet enough, slick enough for him to slide into her with ease.  And he does just that.   
  
“Oh, fuck..”   
  
She can’t help but curse when she feels him deep inside her, big enough to caress her walls in the most delicious way. She’s laying down and now he’s hovering over her more, finding a steady pace. He’s deep inside her now and every time he slaps against her, her clit is stimulated. But it isn’t enough. Not for him, at least. His hand moves, his thumb pressing against that nerve and her mouth suddenly hangs agape. It’s so good. He feels so good.   
  
“The princess? Swearing? Never thought I’d see the.. Day.”   
  
He’s mocking her and she would roll her eyes if they weren’t already rolling into the back of her head. He’s fucking her so completely that she could unravel at any second. Thank god she’s still on the pill. She doesn’t need any further complications.   
  
And at this point, she doesn’t want him to pull out of her when he does hit his own climax.   
  
Her teeth are digging into her lower lip because she can’t even seem to catch her breath, not with how her body is on fire and how he’s now lowering his head, lips finding her neck. She shouldn’t let him mark her. But she wants to. Hermione moans out when she feels him bite down on her flesh, leaving two perfect snake bites right there.   
  
She’s so close.   
  
She’s so incredibly close and she rocks her hips against him, nails moving to claw his back. She’s sure by the end of this little tryst, there’ll be blood there from how hard she’s gripping. And the little hiss of pain does not go unnoticed by the Lodge matriarch.   
  
“Don’t stop. God, don’t fucking stop.”   
  
Her words drive his length further inside her and she cries out against the crook of his neck because his hips are roaring to life, their speed matching that of a jackhammer’s speed. It feels incredible and she can’t possibly hang on to reality anymore, not with the stars she’s now seeing. But she’s waiting for him, waiting for him to hit his own climax with her.   
  
“G-Gonna..”   
  
“Cum..”  She murmurs, nails digging into the back of his neck.   
  
And once he cums, so does she. He’s groaning against her ear and she’s crying out against his. Fuck. She’s never felt this incredible. She can’t remember ever being set on fire this way. It’s like he’s the spark and she’s the match.   
  
It’s a few minutes before they each both catch their breath and they’re covered in a light sheen of sweat. She’s panting and he isn’t far behind, they can’t find the desire to pull away. Not yet.   
  
“That was…” He begins.   
  
“Amazing?” She finishes, a smile on her face with a chuckle to soon follow. Her nails are carelessly caressing the skin on the back of his neck, but she suddenly feels too close. Too intimate. He isn’t her husband and she isn’t his wife.   
  
With that realization, the two pull apart. Neither are sorry for what just happened, but Hermione knows it can’t happen again. Not with him, at least.   
  
She’s sitting there now, pulling her panties back up and he is doing the same with his boxers, his pants and finally, collecting his shirt from the floor. She takes a moment to appreciate the fine muscular form of this man before she turns, not being careful as to press into him.   
  
“Would you mind?”  
  
She asks, signaling to the zipper of her dress. He’ll gladly accommodate her, also not being careful when his fingers brush against her backside. She bites her lip and quickly, turns to face him again.   
  
“I take it you got everything you came for. And then some.”   
  
The knowing smirk is passed between them and he smirks.   
  
“Seems I did.”  
  
Hermione nods, moving to grab his check for him once more and place it in his back pocket. They’re deep enough where it won’t fall out and it allows her to touch him one last time.   
  
“I’ll see you around then,”  She says, eyes trained on his.   
  
“See you around, Lodge. Oh and tell Fred I said thanks for the check.”   
  
But, it’s clear by the way his eyes are moving up and down her body, he doesn’t mean just the check. Fred will never know. And it makes her shiver again.   
  
Before any more can be said, F.P. moves out the door, but not before throwing another glance in Hermione’s direction.   
  
Suddenly he’s gone. And she’s left to tend to the two snake bites on the side of her neck and the arousal-stained panties, courtesy of Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second.   
  
"Damn it," She breathes.


End file.
